Hi. What's up? Mahalo. Talofa lava. Suh dude, etc etc. Hey there. We've made it. Thank fucking god, we have made it. The campus bubble is just about burst, and life as we know is about to drastically change. No more assignments, no more tutors, no more lectures or late nights studying. Goodbye cheap doctors appointments, goodbye MAWSA and Massive Magazine and all your controversies. Goodbye pyramid, goodbye Tussock. See ya, ciao, Auf Wiedersehen. We are so outta here.

I've talked to a few people, and some are terrified. This is to be expected. It seems like just yesterday that we were weaving through hordes of other terrified first years on our way to our very first class. I remember clearly my first day. I was one of those poor unfortunate souls who got lost and was late for class. I remember hurtling around the campus, orientation map in hand *cringe*, until I finally ended up in tears. Upon finally reaching my destination I discovered the tutor did not give a single shit whether I was late to class nor did she care if I actually finished my homework, let alone turned up at all. Welcome to uni little one (literally, I'm 5"4), you're on your own.

I suppose this is the point where I'm supposed to say something incredibly uplifting and inspiring, empowering even. But to all of you graduating, I feel like you can already sense it. That feeling at the light at the end of the tunnel, of euphoria. Four years after I ran through the campus feeling completely and entirely alone, I am not scared in the slightest of what is to come, in fact, I'm excited. Bring it on. A world of travel and new people and new experiences awaits. You could even go as far as to say that a whole new life awaits. Can you feel it? Freedom? That sun on your back? Can you taste life on your lips? Anyone who's already graduated would probably tell me that within a few months of being capped we'll be just as downtrodden and defeated as every other person on this godforsaken planet. Call me optimistic, but I don't care. We made it, so we might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Because life is here, true life is beginning. So long Massey, it's been a helluva ride.

So to those who still have a way to go;

Years ago, we stood in your very shoes. Years of university life ahead, some of us scared shitless, most of us revelling in the fact we didn't have to behave like responsible adults just yet. That we could put off the inevitable for a little while longer, drinking away our nights and sleeping away our days in damp flats with leaky taps and old fridges, the noises of which would often be likened to badly played bagpipes or an airplane taking off.

Don't fool yourself into thinking you need to have all your shit together because you don't. I spent way too much time stressing and feeling depressed during my first year of uni. Don't get me wrong, getting good grades is a fantastic feeling, but there is absolutely no point beating yourself up over one crappy mark. University life is a time to experiment, to think and to meditate, to come of age and grow up in your own time. To drink and be merry, to form relationships that may last a lifetime or just a night. To realise that leaving assignments to the last minute or finishing them on time, or cramming for that pivotal exam in contrast to studying bit by bit for weeks beforehand, is not necessarily a good thing or a bad thing. It's a time to realise who you are, to discover what works for you. I came to Massey believing I knew exactly what this world was about, thinking I knew exactly who I was and who I was to become, but I'm leaving an entirely different person. I openly admit to the fact that I was completely naive when I moved to Wellington. I remember my first day on campus, my hair pulled back in a low ponytail with no makeup on, in floral doc martens and a secondhand cardigan; a militant vegetarian with a chip on her shoulder, stomping from lecture hall to classroom, barely stopping to smell the gardenias, determined to finish uni and get the hell out of New Zealand. Not that there is anything wrong with ponytails or docs or makeup or vegetarianism (you do you home skillet), but compared to that eighteen-year-old who struggled to make friends and managed to offend just about everyone she talked too, I like to think I'm an entirely different person. Let's be honest though, my love for cheese scones has never waned and I still manage to put my foot in it with just about everyone (sorry fam). I'm still the same old clusterfuck of emotions and hormones and everything in between, just a more confident, new and improved version with a more optimistic attitude towards life. Uni does that to you.

I wish I could explain to each and every one of you how different you'll be by the time you graduate, but to be honest it'll happen so slowly you'll barely notice. For me, I was returning home from a late shift with my flatmate sometime over the summer. Far from being even remotely tired, we sat on the roof till 6am drinking tea and talking shit, and watching the sky slowly turn from a dark navy to lilac, to that beautiful clear blue New Zealand is so famous for. I fell asleep on that roof, waking only to my flatmate coming out of the shower asking me if we should get breakfast at the local maccas. I looked around, still drowsy from my nap, and the sky was light and the air smelt sweet, like summer, but also vaguely like the tobacco my flatmate had been smoking. The world was just waking up, quiet and peaceful; the birds were just starting to chirp their morning song, but there weren't any cars on the road yet. A lone runner padded slowly past our flat, and somewhere a cat meowed. I don't know what it was about that moment, but it keeps coming back to me. I guess I felt completely content. In that minute between night and day, like those first few seconds when you wake, where your bedroom is still hazy and dreamlike with sleep; the moment between zoning out and coming back to your senses, the seconds before lips meet. Electric. I guess what I'm trying to say is that however lost or nervous or anxious you are feeling right now, you will meet people, you will find a job, you will finish uni. Happiness has a funny way of creeping up on you. No matter how ill-fated or undetermined the future seems, no matter how blind you feel, everything is going to be a-okay. Take it from someone that has been there, done that. I can't even tell you how many nights I kept myself awake stressing over whether or not I was throwing my life away. Trust me, you're gonna be just fine.

So to all of you finishing uni, congratulations and welcome to real life. To everyone just starting, make sure you stop and smell those gardenias. To all you second years, you're halfway so keep smiling. To all you third years, not long to go now so hang in there.

It's weird really, but as we were driving last night I began to feel like it could have been Summer. It wasn't the fact I was braless and wearing someone else's singlet, the fact the sky was so clear we could actually see the stars, the old school rock and roll radio station blasting David Bowie, or the fact the air smelt sweet. It was the atmosphere of the night. The potential, like something huge was about to happen. The night was pregnant, heavily, on the verge of something. Even the air felt warmer. Which is weird because just as I predicted months ago, Winter has hit truly hit Wellington. Hard. It was almost like the world had stopped.

Even today, the sun is out. The world outside my bedroom window is quiet, except for the birds chirping. It's our first beautiful day in months. So of course, I'm sitting here thinking, where did the rain go?

Remember that scene from Forrest Gump when Forrest ends up fighting in Vietnam and one day it starts raining and it doesn't stop for four months? I never really fully understood where Forrest was coming from until I moved to Wellington. Because when it rains here, it really rains. Like, we're talking grey skies, dark storm clouds, thunder and lightning. We have the most beautiful summers, then overnight suddenly monsoon weather hits. The sun will shine every day and the air smells sweet, then all of a sudden it starting raining and it doesn't stop for ten months. Welcome to winter in Wellington, where the wind is so strong you can't walk in a straight line down the street, and visitors and newcomers are identified by complex updos (good luck) and floaty dresses (you really thought you could wear that?) that they attempt to control as they struggle across the pavement like drunkards on a Saturday night.

I don't actually mind winter. In fact, I love the rain. Sitting inside when it's stormy outside, especially in my tiny shoebox of a room, is like sitting in my own little cocoon. There is something calming about sitting inside, warm and cosy, while the storm outside raging, seemingly tearing the very roots of the city apart. I certainly find it easier to concentrate when the rain softly beating against my window. When the sun is shining, I feel like I'm missing out on something. So yeah, I love the rain, and I can hardly blame my lack of motivation to write on this blog on the damp weather we've been having lately.

Hey team.
Yeah, that's right, I'm not dead (yet).

If you're a regular reader, sorry boo, I got busy (and lazy). If you're new here, namaste.
So far 2016 has been a pretty weird year.

So what have I been up too? Uni mostly. I'm in my last year and although I was fully prepared to be permanently curled up in the fetal position as the weight of a thousand assignments came down upon me like a tonne of heavy burning bricks, I'm not nearly as stressed as I thought I would be. To be honest I'm perfectly happy. I haven't felt so sure of myself, in my own body and my own mind, in quite a long time. I wear whatever I want, I eat when I want. I sleep in my own bed and stretch across the mattress with the reckless abandon only an individual sleeping alone can enjoy. I'm completely content. I'm currently on a six-week break having finished my semester with little to no drama, and now that I've finally gotten through half of year, well, it's like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. In previous semester breaks, I've told myself that I'll start running again, that I'll throw out a bunch of shit I don't need, or I'll eat better or delete Facebook or re-decorate my room or something. This semester break however, I've decided just to chill out. Eat good food, work a few extra shifts, and sleep in. It good really, not feeling the pressure to do anything. While some would argue my new state of mind is lazy and pointless, I'm actually quite enjoying myself so far. So suck it.

I have a fringe now, although I clip it back a lot of the time. At some point between the last few days of Summer and the first flood of Winter, my flatmate and I got bored and decided to cut my hair. It's been a permanent fixture on my head ever since.

I haven't really written on this blog for a while which you probably noticed. Firstly, and I won't go into it too much, but le shit really hit le fan and to be honest, le shit really put me off. After some thinking, I decided nothing was going to come in between my blog and I. Secondly, I've had severe writer's block for months. It happens, and anyone who writes for a living will tell you it really is the pits. Thirdly, I've been busy and unfortunately, uni has to come first. Now that I've somehow survived the first half of my final year, I'm feeling confident that I'll finish my degree and go on to better things. To be honest, the thought that I'd drop out of uni and achieve nothing with my life has been keeping me up at night, playing on my anxiety, for years. With the deportation of that thought from my mind, I feel infinitely more confident about life. Voila, the writer's block finally vanished (thank fuck) and I can get on with everything.

What else is happening in my life? Nothing much of interest, and you know what? I'm totally cool with that.

The thing about my generation, the Millennials, and the generation that followed, Generation Z, is that scarcely any of us remember a time without internet. I have vague memories of my Mum and I getting dial up, and the noise it used to make when it was connecting. I remember that my Mum couldn't talk on the phone when I was on the computer playing games or searching photos of horses to print and stick on my wall; it was a time before cellphones or broadband, before the internet encapsulated us entirely. But I don't remember a time when the internet wasn't there at all. My Mum and Aunty do, but then my Mum often talks about when my Grandparents bought their first colour television. Arguably, the internet is something that is entirely our own. It's our thing. Don't get me wrong, the internet can be used for good. It keeps us connected, it keeps us entertained, it keeps us informed, and you gotta admit that I'd be lying if I said that Google wasn't an absolute lifesaver.

Perhaps that is where the issue lies; we've become too reliant on the internet. Social media in particular is a huge issue. You could argue that it's just fun and games. Up until very recently, I had a Facebook and a Twitter, and I still have an Instagram and a Tumblr (more on that later). But the underlying issues of social media, for example our addition to recording and posting every moment of everyday online for everyone to see, the relentless stalking that can occur when you break up with someone, or the colossal problem of online bullying and backstabbing, have become too big to ignore. In addition we are bombarded with images and statues about everyone else's "perfect lives" when in reality, they're far from perfect. We see splashes and slivers, but never the full picture. We see the good times, but not the bad times. I mean, unless you're directly involved in somebody's life and affairs that is. However some people, infact most of us, don't realise that. Social media is not reality. On top of everything, we don't even know the full scale effects of it yet because the whole concept of the internet and social media is such a recent invention.

Anyway carrying on, everything you put on the internet is public. Literally everything. Once you click post, there is no going back. The thing is babes, that it doesn't matter how private you make something, someone somewhere will be able to see it. I've googled my name before and found photos I thought I had deleted off social media years ago. Nothing is safe. The internet is a void, a black hole. Searching something in Google only scratches the surface of the web, it's colossal.

A few days ago, I logged onto Twitter to find that my best friend of three years had blocked me. Initially I thought she'd done it in an attempt to be funny, since I jokingly had done the same to her months ago in response to her incessant retweeting of all things to do with her favourite band. It was when she didn't reply to my texts that I got worried. I logged off my twitter, so I could look at hers as an anonymous user (yes that is a thing, believe it or not). So anyway, this friend had posted an especially bitchy status about me. She was angry apparently because I had been "outing" her tweets and "throwing them back in her face". In time her internet friends, many whom she's never even met before let alone have any idea who I am, had all chipped in telling her I was gross and she needed new friends, to which my supposed best friend of three years had replied "tell me about it". Someone I know who I don't get along with had also joined in. It was when I confronted my friend about it that I found out she had been talking to this person behind my back, about me. She also went on and on about how it was "just twitter", and how me finding other ways to look at her account when she had blocked me was an invasion of privacy.

Now let's get one thing straight, I didn't really care that she had blocked me. It was the tweeting about me that I didn't like, especially considering I had seen her a week beforehand and she hadn't said anything. After much arguing I discovered the real issue was that she didn't like me talking about her new tattoo with my workmates. At the time we didn't know what it was yet so we were speculating about what it could be. Eventually they starting teasing me about wanting Morrissey's face on my leg when I was fifteen (secretly still do lol). What has this got to do with blocking and bitching about me "outing" her Twitter? I've got no idea. Furthermore how sad is it that a solid three year relationship has now ended because of the passive aggressive antics of someone who didn't have the common decency to state what was bothering her to my face?

Unsurprisingly, I've had issues with Twitter before. One time I asked someone to stop tweeting about my Mum (yes no shit, she was tweeting about my Mother), and she threw a tantrum, blocked me, and spent the next hour complaining about me. On twitter. After I had explicitly asked her not too. This is the same person who preaches girl love. Ironic, isn't it? Furthermore some days I log onto Tumblr and people are encouraging their followers to bully other users. I've seen cruel Instagram comments telling people they're ugly and should kill themselves. It appears online bullying and backstabbing is only gaining speed. Social media is a bit like advertising really. The more attention we pay to it, the more powerful it grows.

And that's why, after very little contemplation, I deactivated my Facebook and Twitter. You can now add social media to my list of things I'm deleting from my life, temporarily anyway. Boys, dairy, social media. Gone. Goodbye. I might get Facebook back in time, after all I do have friends overseas and it's so easy to log on and flick them a message. I think I just need a break. Even if you think it's "just social media" you can't deny the problems that arise from our obsession with online social platforms.

I'm not encouraging everyone to go deleting every social media account they have, I'm simply encouraging you to log off for a bit. Read a book, create a zine, listen to music through a speaker instead of your super anti-social noise cancelling headphones (guilty, sorry team). Go to a cafe and talk to your friends instead of taking photos of your food and spending fifteen minutes choosing an Instagram filter. Even better, go to a cafe without wifi (yes they exist). Go to a concert and close your eyes and listen to the music and put your phone away (seriously, it defeats the entire purpose of going to see live music). Get off Tinder and go to a bar. Try eating your breakfast without tweeting about it. Detox. Get it out of your system. Hell, maybe after a few days you'll notice the way the sun hits a building, the wildflowers that grow outside your window, the cute boy who lives next door. Maybe you'll spot a new cafe that just opened, or a bookstore that you've walked past everyday for four years and never noticed. Put simply, quit the screen and start living.

Until next time babes, stay fresh xx

p.s As of the 19th April, my friend and I are all good now. Forgiveness is a virtue honey bees x

You could call it a split decision, but it wasn't really. I'd been seeking escape for years, researching how far away I could possibly get from the clichés and cliques that had dominated my years at high school. To be honest, my teenage angst got the best of me, and in a way I had become the cliché. That "alty" girl you often see in films, who dreams of bigger things, bigger loves and big adventures in bigger cities. In reality I was just a young, low key foreign looking girl with a major case of terminal uniqueness, crushing on a boy in a band and always showing up late to class smelling of darkroom chemicals. I wore my Grandmother's old hippie clothes and dreamed of travelling. I wanted to be a writer, not sit in physics class. Holy fuck, I hated physics. And maths. What the fuck is with maths? Fucking stupid, that's what it is.

Anyway carrying on, put simply I was trying to find myself, and like so many who have come before me I often fell flat on my face. At some point, around the same time I discovered I couldn't draw for shit and would never be a great artist, my Mum gave me her Olympus OM10. Photography fascinated me. It was so much easier to understand the people around me through a lens, certainly a lot easier than maintaining a conversation. And so I fell in love with a dusty old 35mm camera, and the idea of being a photographer. I'd roam the earth with just my SLR, an extra roll of film, a toothbrush and a spare pair of underpants. First things first though, I had to get out of Auckland.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family and the house I grew up in. Deep down I even love my cat Einstein, even though he is an asshole. But I just needed to get away. I get itchy feet and I was suffocating in the humidity and the smog. I'd never lived outside of Auckland, but I'd travelled enough overseas to know that there was more to the world than the Sky Tower, K'Rd secondhand shopping, and the Ponsonby brunch bunch. If I spent one more Sunday watching the designer Mums clad in their designer Lulu Lemon yoga pants rock their designer babies back and fourth in their designer prams, whilst they sipped on their designer decaf soy vanilla lattes and ate gluten free dairy free sugar free bircher muesli in a stark white walled cafe, well... I was going to loose my goddamn mind. I needed out.

So I looked up the San Francisco School of Art. When I realised how expensive that was going to be, I had a cry, then proceeded to google Otago. The other end of the country sounded great until I realised none of their degrees particularly appealed to me. And thus I came upon our capital city. It wasn't bigger. Infact, I didn't realise at the time, but this city is painfully small. At least it was a start. It wasn't the other end of the country but the other end of the island still seemed pretty far away. I received a scholarship to study law and politics at Victoria, so naturally I turned it down to study photography and journalism at Massey. And off I went.

Make no mistake, I've had a helluva good time in Wellington. Yeah, first year kind of sucked but by the time second year came around, I had made a few friends, moved into my own flat and finally at long last, found my feet. I bought a pair of secondhand pumps, cut my hair, starting filling in my eyebrows and adopted a sassy, take-no-prisoners attitude. I stayed up late and woke up early, I fell in love and in return had my heart stomped on. I made friends but also lost a few. I started working as a waitress and it sucked but the food was alright, and on student night I threw back tequila shots with reckless abandon while my flatmates looked on and cheered. Returning home at the end of 2014, my friends and family barely recognised me. These days I'm more about the study and b-grade movies than the tequila, but life is still pretty darn good.

Anyway, just a few weeks ago I went back to Auckland, back to that filthy city, to housesit and feed my Aunty's bitchy cat Peach. Walking down High Street with my Mum, I thought maybe something about the city had changed. Everything looked similar, but felt different. Like I was looking at it through a prism or a kaleidoscope. Like the colours had altered slightly. I realised after a few days that the weird vibes I was getting weren't because of Auckland, it was me. I had changed. I wasn't that young girl in her Grandmother's oversized blue button down shirt anymore, crushing on a boy in a band, hating on life and taking photos of leaves on the sidewalk , although I still often smell like darkroom chemicals. I'd moved to Wellington with the explicit intention of escape. I didn't know who I was or who I was becoming and that frightened me. So I did what any scared angst ridden seemingly artistic teenage girl on the verge of womanhood would do: I ran. Now four years later, the inevitable has occurred. I had grown up (well fuck). The problem is that after four years of splitting my life between two completely different cities, I don't really know where home is. I've been away from Auckland long enough that I don't really feel like I belong there anymore, although I never really did in the first place. Wellington is great, but it's way too small for me to stay here long term.

Yeah I don't know where I belong, but I think I may be starting to get an inkling as to who I am, or who I'm becoming at least. As I said before I was always destined to be that cliché girl in the film, finding herself in the big city. Little did I know that I would do just that, but it wasn't New York or Los Angeles or Paris that I found myself in. It was little old Wellington, that tiny capital city at the bottom of the world.

I have a bit of a confession to make (oh no). I've lived in Wellington for three years now and I've never been to the Newtown Fair. So as 2016 will probably be my last year in Wellington, I decided that this year I better make the effort.

There has always been a real sense of community in Newtown, a sense of togetherness. It's a beautiful run-down little suburb teeming with life really, and the annual street festival wasn't any different.